Dearly Beloved
by hazeleyes571
Summary: A wedding, at last.


Disclaimer: Idea for programme and original characters are the property of Anthony Horowitz and are used here just for fun without profit, no infringement intended.

Title: Dearly Beloved

Author: hazeleyes57

Rating: U universal

Spoilers: None

Ship: Surprise! The line of poetry quoted I have found attributed both to Elizabeth Barrett Browning and someone called Roy Croft. As I don't know the genuine article, I'm not intending any infringement of the poem and will be more than happy to give them credit when I do find out.

**Dearly Beloved**

"Do I look all right?"

The younger of the two men standing at the nave of the church tried to stand still under the inspection that he had just requested. He was dressed in his blue RAF uniform; his hat tucked under one arm and his hair neatly slicked down. A white rose buttonhole was the only non standard addition to the blue serge.

His nervous expression was at odds with his confident posture.

The older man, also wearing a buttonhole and dressed smartly but not in uniform, completed his perusal and then nodded once. He allowed a small smile to escape.

"Apart from the look of sheer terror not expected to be found on the face of a seasoned pilot, you look very fine indeed."

"How can you be so calm Dad? I wasn't this nervous the last time I was shot at!"

Detective Chief Superintendent Christopher Foyle regarded his pale son and realised that there was probably some degree of truth in his comment.

"Relax Andrew, you have nothing to worry about. Just a few words -"

Andrew Foyle, a serving officer in His Majesty's Royal Air Force, regarded his father with some surprise, but kept his voice low so as not to be overheard.

"'Just a few words'? Hardly, Dad. It's a wedding; a bit more than 'just a few words'. Honestly. You taught me the importance of keeping my word a long time ago. This is keeping a few words with God."

Foyle senior opened his mouth to answer, but whatever he had been about to say was lost when he noticed that the Vicar had entered the body of the church from the vestry.

Reverend Iain Stewart looked suitably solemn as he greeted the two men but there was sympathetic warmth in his eyes when he noticed Andrew's nervousness.

"I have been in the fortunate position of officiating at many weddings here during my tenure at Saint Stephen's, and many of the young people here were nervous until the service was under way, so please try to relax Andrew, it won't be so difficult once Samantha arrives, you'll see."

"Thank you, Sir."

Andrew smiled briefly, but he was too anxious to really appreciate the comfort from Sam's father. He shifted from one foot to the other, and then turned to face up the body of the church. The congregation was small and almost intimate, except that Andrew didn't recognise more than a handful of the faces present. The pew for Sam's mother was empty as yet and he assumed, rightly, that she was waiting at the door for Sam to arrive. Some of his father's colleagues were here, and a few friends of Sam's, including Milner's young lady, Edith, were seated on the Bride's side of the church.

Andrew turned back to face his father, only to find him looking back at him with almost tender amusement. He felt supported and loved without a word being spoken.

Christopher Foyle met his son's gaze with equanimity. It seemed to calm Andrew and for that he was pleased. It was a warm enough summer's day without getting overheated with anxiety.

After a few moments he risked a glance at his watch and noted, without concern, that it was five minutes to two. Sam was usually punctual and he didn't think that she would chose to demonstrate a fashionably late Bridal entrance, not when she knew just how worked up Andrew would get if she failed to show up on time.

Not for the first time, Foyle found himself thinking back over the years leading up to this moment. The first time he had met Sam was indelibly imprinted on his brain, and his lips twitched as he recalled how his earnest new driver had bent his ear for a considerable amount of time, although at the time he had been less than amused. She had proven herself to be intelligent, resourceful and rather handy with a dustbin lid, all useful qualities in her job as his driver.

On another occasion, Sam had arrived at his house to collect him and met Andrew for the first time. His son had been blatantly admiring but also a little condescending to Sam and she in turn had transformed into a hedgehog; all spiky and unimpressed, referring to Andrew as 'fast'. It had come as no surprise to his father that Andrew had later asked Sam out on a date; it was the first time someone had not taken to him immediately, and he had been intrigued. It had been the start of an initially clandestine relationship between Andrew and Sam that had come to light later, only to have the two of them split up after he had been posted away from the local area.

Christopher Foyle had never been concerned over Andrew and Sam stepping out together. Regardless of how fast or fresh his son may have been, he had no doubts about Sam's ability to take care of herself. If anyone was entitled to wear a white wedding dress, it would be Sam.

"She's late."

Foyle's musings halted at the sound of Andrew's voice. He looked up.

"Mmmn?"

Andrew looked to the back of the church, then back at his father.

"I knew that she'd be late."

"Andrew, she'll be here. It's barely a minute after two, and it's traditional to be a little late; keeps us men on our toes."

Andrew worried at his lip.

"Maybe they've broken down?"

"Can't think of anyone better qualified to get themselves going again, so please try to relax."

Andrew did smile at that, and made a visible effort to calm himself until a stir at the back of the church made both men turn to see what was going on. They were in time to see Mrs Stewart, Sam's mother, make her way to her pew at the front of the church. She smiled gently and gave the three men a small nod.

Andrew glanced at his father.

"Phew, this is it."

Foyle senior smiled.

"It certainly is."

Although there were no bells to be heard, the organ was still in fine working order as the congregation rose to their feet to welcome the bride and her attendants.

As Sam's father was going to conduct the service, Paul Milner had been honoured to accept the responsibility of accompanying her up the isle to her groom. There was barely any hesitation in his gait and no-one present would have guessed that he had lost part of one leg whilst serving in the army. In any case, every eye in the church was on Samantha as she progressed up the isle. Every eye, that is, except hers. She was looking at her groom first and her father second, and her smile – clearly visible through her veil - was the most dazzling thing in the church.

Sam wore a full length white silk dress – her mother's before her, but skilfully altered to resemble the fashion of the day. The slightly padded shoulders, the nipped in waist, and the close-fitting sleeves were de rigueur, and her headdress securely held the waist length veil. In her hands she carried a white bible and a large bouquet of red roses and baby's breath.

For the three men waiting for her to reach them, the feelings were mixed. Her father was pleased for her to be marrying a man she clearly adored, but sorry in a small way that she was changing from a daughter to a wife. He would miss his little Samantha.

For the best man, it was regret at lost chances and resignation at his own stupidity, but he acknowledged truthfully to himself that Sam did not love him as a woman should love the man she is to marry. She had never smiled at him the way she was smiling now. He patted his pocket and felt the reassuring bulge of the two wedding rings. He would always love Sam, but only as a member of his family, not as his wife.

For the groom, his feelings were not at all mixed. He was as happy as he had ever been in his life and no matter what the Germans threw at him, he could cope so long as Sam was at his side. He loved her, cherished her, was challenged and exasperated by her, but felt exhilaration whenever he was with her. She made his colours brighter, his day more satisfying, and his life complete. As Sam glided towards him, a line of poetry came to him.

_I love you, not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you._

His eyes met hers as if the veil was not there and it was all he could do not to pull her into his arms here and now, in front of everyone. She could read his mind, but he didn't mind. He smiled instead and she smiled back.

Milner and Sam halted beside the two Foyle men; Sam gave her flowers to her bridesmaid, who also managed to help her lift her veil.

Sam looked from her future husband to her father and signalled her readiness to begin.

"_Dearly beloved_, we are here assembled, in the presence of God and these witnesses, to join together this man, Christopher Foyle, and this woman, Samantha Jane Stewart in Holy Matrimony, which is blessed by our Lord Jesus Christ, governed by God's commandments, and is to be held in high honour among all people. Therefore it is not to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, and in awe of God."

Detective Superintendent Christopher Foyle looked at his Sam. He was calm, not the bag of nerves his son was, and he was finally right where he wanted to be.

Reverently and discreetly in awe of God, for bringing him and Sam together.

Amen, indeed.


End file.
